


Bored

by Staymay5



Series: Of Dreams and Spacey Things [1]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-03
Updated: 2015-03-03
Packaged: 2018-03-16 03:14:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3472358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Staymay5/pseuds/Staymay5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor is so incredibly bored but Clara won't be bothered by his antics.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bored

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you all enjoy. I'm working on fixing my problems with Talking to the Moon, but I hope you enjoy this in it's stead. Till next week :)

Bored

They were sitting in the TARDIS library again. They always seemed to sit there. The Doctor let out an impatient sigh letting his eyes wander on over to Clara. If she heard him she was doing a good job at playing like she hadn’t. Sucking in a breath the Doctor made an even more exaggerated sigh flailing around uncomfortably in his seat. Nothing but silence met him as Clara simply took a sip of her tea and continued reading her book.

His eyes zoned in as if try to x-ray through the cover of her book. Was it a good book? Was she smiling? Or a sad book? Not that he could understand her wanting to read a sad book, life was sad enough as it is. Either way he was certain he could show her something one hundred times better than what she was reading. The sides of his mouth pulled down as he spun around in his chair leaving him now upside down.

Triumph shot through him. For a split second he caught her looking, the book slightly pulled away from her face, a single eye-brow raised in his direction. But she quickly adjusted herself to face away from burrowing her face farther in her book. A mumbled growl escaped his lips as he leapt up from his seat, in a manner most surprising for his looks.

If she wanted to spend their evening being a needy game player fine by him, but he wasn’t going to sit there like the petulant child he was and mope about it. No he was going to do something, something interesting, something that would show her for ignoring him, something that wasn’t simply pacing back and forth around her. He frowned at the track marks he made and tried to smooth them down hoping it wouldn’t make the TARDIS angry.

Slowly he made his way over to the chalkboard picking out a piece of chalk and setting about writing as loud as he possibly could. Still nothing. Letting out another disgruntled sigh he made his way over to the book shelf, pulling out book after book and then proceeding to throw them over his shoulder. That had to drive her crazy, she loved books there was no way she’d stand for that. 

And apparently neither would the TARDIS. It tilted suddenly chucking him onto his bum and causing him to let out a string of profanities in Gallifrian. What happened to the good old days when the TARDIS was on his side? It’s like they didn’t want him to have any fun anymore. He sat on the ground for a moment, not that he was pouting or anything, he simply had to come up with his next line of attack.  
…

It was only on the seventeenth poke did she respond. Slowly Clara turned to look at him her left eye twitching in annoyance, “Is there something I can help you with, Doctor?”

He smiled smugly, knowing he won… or at least was currently winning. “Now that you mention it,” he began flopping over the couch displacing Clara and her belongings purposely stretching himself out to take up as much room as possible without touching her, “I’ve been thinking.”

“Well that’s new,” her lip twitched up against her will in amusement, “you learn that in one of you trips without me?”

“Very funny teach.” He rolled his eyes at her. If she wanted to get a rise out of him, she’d already gotten it hours ago.

“Fine,” she sighed setting her book down and turning so that she was fully facing him, “what have you been thinking about in that big old head of yours?”

“Well,” he began electing to ignore her big head comment in favor of gloating, “I win.”

“Win what?”

“This,” he said exasperatedly gesturing to nothing with his hands as if that obviously exemplified some point.

“This?” Clara raised both eyebrows at him incredulously causing her eyes to grow wider and slightly more maddening.

“Yes,” he said rather quickly his voice rising slightly at the end, whether in question or challenge he wasn’t sure. Some part of himself, the more sensible part he’d argue, felt the need to assert himself so he said more firmly, dominantly, “this.”

The corner of Clara’s lip twitched and before he knew what was happening she was on him like some blasted house cat pinning him with her tiny body to the couch. He made a grunting sound and squirmed trying to get the hair out of his face, but the little bugger was impossible to pry off, “Clara no.”

Her laughter met his ears in response and he paused for a moment to savor it before he returned to squirming, “Clara get off me. Stop with the touchy-feely. I’m a Time Lord not a squeeze toy!”

“Nope,” she huffed out in a tiny breath, her face pushed into his soldier, her hands struggling to maintain control, “not until you take it back.”

“No, you tiny control freak” he growled half-heartedly in a playful way, “I won fair and square. You better surrender or I’ll have to unleash my attack eyebrows on you.”

“Oh I’m scared now,” she huffed sarcastically pulling his arms down to his sides to pin them under his knees, “beside what use are your attack eyebrows when I’m on top.”

“Ow,” he whined at her tiny pinchy fingers, “anyone ever tell you you’re freakishly strong?”

“Yes,” she smirked at him triumph shinning in her big brown eyes.

Raising one of his attack eye brows confused the Doctor ceased his squirming and asked, “Really? Who?”

“You,” you she laughed as her hands lunged at him determined to tickle him into submission.

“Clara!”

“You wanted this,” she huffed between breaths sticking her tongue out at him and then mimicked him in a whiny poorly done Scottish accent, “Clara I’m bored, pay attention to me.”

“I- I said no such thing!”

“Not with word, but you said it none the less,” she smile teasingly, “so here’s your reward for winning.”

“Clara,” he half whined half begged tired of wiggling around. Realizing he had no other choice, “fine you win!”

“And?” she said humorously not letting up in the slightest.

His mind panicked searching for what else she could possibly want, “I’m sorry for interrupting your book?”

“Nope.”

“Clara, please,” he huffed, “you’re going to make me regenerate at this rate.”

“As if,” she rolled her eyes at his antics.

“Please,” he said in a way that he hoped passed for sincere.

“Fine,” she conceded, “say I’m the boss.”

“You’re the boss?” he said quizzically. It wasn’t like he didn’t say that to her all the time already. She gave him a pointed look and he nodded, “you win and you’re the boss.”

“Thank you,” she smiled crawling off him, retrieving the throw from where it had fallen on the floor.

He sat there silently for a moment and then frowned thinking she was going to go back to reading her book and ignoring him. Instead she spun him around and pulled his head into her lap, “so now that I win are you going to lay here like a good boy?”

“Yes?” he responding quizzically not even entirely convinced himself he was telling the truth.

“Doctor?”

“Fine, you nag, just don’t go hugging me again,” he grumbled attempting to hide the way his lips turned up in the crook of her leg. 

Suddenly he felt her finger combing through his hair and he looked up at her. There was something surprisingly calming and nice feeling about the gesture, like returning home. “I’ll do as I like,” she whisper picking back up her book.

In all honesty he knew that this was what she wanted all along, for him to rest for a bit that is. It was only because she cared and she was worried about him. Resting was stupid he thought burrowing his head further into her leg, slowly letting go as she combed through his hair. He’d do as she liked though, not because she won, or because she was the boss, or even because he was falling asleep anyways, but because she was his Clara. As he started to drift off he could he himself mumble, “yes ma’am.”

A small smile made its way to Clara’s lips as she peaked down from her book at the now sleeping Time Lord. Her thoughts drifted to a small boy in a barn who she comforted while stroking his hair. Then again he was still a little boy some times. The same man always. She shook her head, took a sip of her tea, stroked his hair, and returned her gaze to her pages. Tomorrow they’d adventure, but for today she’d won and they’d dream.


End file.
